


Pax

by setos_puppy



Series: Eye of the Beholder [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Sam Winchester, Episode: s02e15 Tall Tales, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4613028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is blind. But Sam can see that the janitor is more than what he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pax

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there.”  
  
  
Sam frowned in the direction of the shrill female voice, he had only stumbled a little, back into the wall. “It’s fine.”  
  
  
“You should watch where you’re going.”  
  
  
There was the sound of retreating footsteps and Sam sighed, brushing his hand through his hair and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Righting himself and regaining his sense of direction, Sam headed up the stairs.  
  
  
“What took you so long?” Dean sounded pissed.  
  
  
“There was this girl on the stairs and --”  
  
  
“C’mon, we have an interview with that janitor, remember?”  
  
  
Sam huffed out a sigh, listening to Dean’s retreating footsteps, jamming his hands in his pocket, Sam followed after the noise, making a low, almost continuous clicking - tongue against palate and teeth. He swerved out of the way when a student came out of nowhere with a AV cart and caught Dean rounding a corner.  
  
  
“Would you slow down!?”  
  
  
“No can do, Sammy.”  
  
  
Muttering under his breath Sam made his way over to Dean, who was leaning casually against a door frame, he knocked twice and after a few moments the door swung open.  
  
  
“How can I help ya?”  
  
  
“Hey. Me and my brother -” there was a shuffle telling Sam that Dean was pointing to him, “are doing a piece on that professor, the one who you found?”  
  
  
“Ah, those journalism students, come in, I was just eating lunch.”  
  
  
Sam sauntered into the room, he paused just past the door, however, and clicked, advancing into the room slowly until his hands smoothed over the back of a chair and he sat down.  
  
  
“What’s with the clicking?”  
  
  
“Oh,” Sam smiled a little self-consciously, forgetting that not everyone was used to it like Dean. “It’s how I see.”  
  
  
“‘Scuse me?”  
  
  
“I’m blind.”  
  
  
“Fully?”  
  
  
“Yup.”  
  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
  
Sam shrugged. It had happened just before his thirteenth birthday. A shax beast, controlled by a witch had tracked him down and clawed out his eyes; and by clawed out, that wasn’t some pretty little metaphor, it dug a claw into one eye and ate it and then (presumably) did the same with the other. It was one of the few times they had used their father’s old military pensions to cover hospital bills, up to and including prosthetic eyes. Which Sam was told were a lovely shade of hazel.  
  
  
Sam wasn’t useless though, he still fought, mercilessly, every day. He had learned to see through sound, judging distance and location through something akin to echolocation. Dean called him Dare Devil. Sam let him.  
  
  
“--Now that you mention it, no.”  
  
  
Sam shook his head and tuned back into the conversation, sighing.  
  
  
“Well, that’s all we need.”  
  
  
Sam stood when he heard Dean do the same, as he let his brother steer him towards the door Sam tossed a glance over his shoulder, wondering why splotches of white flashed through his mind when he looked in the direction of the janitor. His brain hurt.  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
It turned out the janitor was a Trickster. Shame really, Sam liked his sense of humor and he had a nice voice. He had narrowly gotten away, it wasn’t his fault - really, too much noise, all unfocused, how was he supposed to know he staked a dress form?  
  
  
And Dean was still bitching.  
  
  
Jerk.  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
“Hey, Bobby.”  
  
  
Flopping onto the couch, Sam popped open his beer, taking a long sip.  
  
  
“Sam, for some reason, every night for the past two weeks stuffs been showin’ up for you. Addressed to you. I tried to look at it, see if it was dangerous, but it’s all in Braille.”  
  
  
Sam’s brows furrowed and he held out his hands, a box was deposited into his arms and he plucked out a random envelope. He slid out the thick tablet of Braille and ran his fingers over the ridges. He pursed his lips and plucked out another, read it, then another.  
  
  
“They’re all from the same person,” he assessed, ignoring Dean’s bitching about ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, demons.  
  
  
“What do they say?” Dean asked.  
  
  
“They’re just letters, Dean. About wanting to get together, wanting to know each other better, did I get the gifts, stuff like that.”  
  
  
“Gifts?”  
  
  
“Yeah, these came with some.”  
  
  
There was a swish and then a thump and Sam laughed loudly when he realized he had a lapful of stuffed animals and heart shaped candy boxes. “I guess I have an admirer.”  
  
  
“A  _demon_  admirer,” Dean groused.  
  
  
“Oh, like you haven’t swayed a girl or two, Dean.” Sam muttered, making a bitchface.  
  
  
“Bitch.”  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
“So, what do they say?”  
  
  
“Some of them are private, Dean.”  
  
  
“Are they racy? Are you getting sexy letters, Sammy?”  
  
  
After a few low clicks a well aimed and forcefully thrown pillow hit Dean hard in the chest.  
  
  
“Man or woman?”  
  
  
“Can’t tell.”  
  
  
He heard Dean fake a sniff. “My baby’s growing up so fast.”  
  
  
Growling, Sam cleared the couch and took Dean down hard.  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
Sam loved libraries. They were quiet and peaceful. Easy to navigate and they helped lessen the strain on his continuously working brain. No demons ever attacked libraries. There were no demon librarians.  
  
  
“Excuse me, sir?”#  
  
Sam rose his head, fingers wrapping around his white cane - a perfectly innocently looking weapon. “Yes?”  
  
  
“There’s a man at the front desk looking for you. Should I show him here or take you to him?”  
  
  
Sam tipped his head, thinking. Dean would be really uncomfortable in the stuffy rows of books, he smiled. “You can bring him here.”  
  
  
Her footsteps retreated and Sam’s fingers returned to his copy of  _Magic’s Pawn_  by Mercedes Lackey. After about three pages there was a sound of boots on carpet and then a chair being moved, creaking as it was occupied.  
  
  
“Hey Dean.”  
  
  
“I’m not Dean.”  
  
  
Sam’s hand shot out for his cane, finding it gone he pushed back from his chair and stood, hands fisted. Fucking sneaky Tricksters. “What the fuck do you want?”  
  
  
“Mercedes Lackey,” the Trickster’s voice drawled. “Good choice.”  
  
  
“Thank you, now can you please leave before I kick your ass?”  
  
  
“Oh Sammy, sit down.” There was a snap and Sam found himself sitting in a plush chair. “I’m not here to kill you. I  _like_ you. You’re fiesty, have spunk and nothing can stop you, can it? Not even a Shax.”  
  
  
“How...”  
  
  
“You hear things when you’ve lived as long as me.”  
  
  
Sam rubbed under where his eyes should be, against them, ignoring the irksome feeling of his prosthetics shifting. It hurt, a low, dull ache behind where his eyes should be, exploding back into his brain. The white fuzz flashed over his brain, hued over by blue, by what Sam remembered was blue.  
  
  
“What are you doing..?” Sam asked, voice far too weak for his liking. “Why do I see colour every time you’re in front of me?”  
  
  
“What?” That was genuine shock and something akin to fear.  
  
  
“This whiteness, pure... it’s like light. White and blue. It stretches on forever, but there are parts of it that arch up and out, wide and graceful, like wings - just like wings. What the fuck are you? What are you doing? I don’t have... I should be able...”  
  
  
“Shh...” A hand smoothed over Sam’s cheek, so warm and soft. “Hush, Sam.”  
  
  
“What are you?”  
  
  
Thumbs rubbed under his eyes, where his eyes should be, where he could almost feel them. “I’m yours.”  
  
  
“I don’t --”  
  
  
“You got my letters, my gifts?”  
  
  
Sam nodded, a whimper catching in his throat. “I still don’t --” He was cut off when a mouth pressed, just barely against his, just ghosting - teasing. “Tell me.”  
  
  
Lips, warm and soft, pressed to his forehead. “I’ve been assigned to you. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve seen me before, in different bodies. Your guidance counsellor in seventh grade - Ms. Oliver, the nurse who first attended to you after the Impala’s accident, the boy who sat beside you in the cafeteria that first day in grade nine...”  
  
  
Sam tipped his head back, focused in on the whiteness, trying to discern anything within the glare. There was a face, so beautiful, so perfect, with lightly curled hair, wings, arching and endless... “You’re... you’re an angel.” For a moment Sam felt as if he could cry, knew if it were possible he would. He laughed, low and melodic, fingers trying to curl into the whiteness, grasping at nothing but air.  
  
  
“Gabriel.”  
  
  
“How can I --?”  
  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
  
Sam smiled, his fingers creeping over Gabriel’s cheeks, mapping out his face. “You look different when I see you. You feel... real.”  
  
  
“Human body, kiddo, comes with flaws.”  
  
  
“You’re still beautiful.” Flares of pink ran through the white and Sam laughed. “Bashful, hm?”  
  
  
“I’m supposed to be a hardass, Samuel.”  
  
  
Sam clicked a few times, heard how Gabriel sounded, he sounded different than Dean, than other people, than demons. People sounded like water, fluid and moving, demons sounded hard, like ice, Gabriel... Gabriel sounded... he sounded like softness.  
  
  
“Can you fix me?”  
  
  
“You’re not broken.”  
  
  
Sam huffed and curled into Gabriel’s chest, eyelids fluttering at soft hands in his hair, stroking. “Are you staying?”  
  
  
“Maybe just for a little while.”  
  
  
“We can make out in the Impala and make Dean’s head explode.”  
  
  
He heard Gabriel smile. “You’re pretty awesome kid.”  
  
  
“Can others see you like I do?”  
  
  
“No. They’d... Well it wouldn’t be pleasant, it involves eyeballs bursting and excruciating pain.”  
  
  
“Ah. Been there. Done that.”  
  
  
Gabriel snorted a laugh into his neck and Sam looped an arm around his neck, he hauled the Arch Angel in and kissed him firmly. When they parted, Gabriel ran a thumb down his cheek and over his jaw.  
  
  
“So, what did you like about my letters?”  
  
  
“Mm. I particularly liked the hot tub one.”  
  
  
“Kinky,” Gabriel murmured into his neck.  
  
  
“Mmm. You aren’t going to snap us away or anything?”  
  
  
“Why rush? Good things come with time.”  
  
  
Sam wriggled and bit at Gabriel’s earlobe. “Or you could snap.”  
  
  
Gabriel snapped.


End file.
